pins and needles
by Roo1965
Summary: what happened after Col Oliver went over the roof? set s2 Secrets. written july to Dec 2004
1. Chapter 1

**"Pins and needles"by Roo  
**

* * *

Part 1

Captain Banks' car screeched to a halt in the back of the alley behind the Olympia building. Other patrol cars blocked in the fleeing would be assassins. Blair scrambled out as soon as he could. For a split second Blair's heart lurched, as he spotted a body sprawled on the ground near a van that had crashed into a dumpster. What if it was Jim?

Banks shot out of his car and pulled the female driver out of the van, but the other occupant had been knocked out in the crash.

"Get out of the car! Where is he? You have three seconds to tell me where Jim Ellison is!" he shouted.

"Simon," said Blair softly, and Simon looked over then followed his gaze upward.

And as they both looked up, they saw Jim standing on the rooftop above. He seemed ok.

As soon as everyone was secure, Blair and Simon went with a uniformed officer to the top floor; both slightly worried that Jim had not made his way down to them already.

When they got there, Jim was still standing in roughly the same place as they had last seen him. He was watching the proceedings below.

"Jim, are you alright?" Blair asked noticing the marks on his coat and the discarded sniper's rifle by the parapet.

"Uh huh," came the slow reply, reassuring neither Blair nor Simon.

"Come on, Jim, it's all over now," said Banks authoritatively.

At this, Jim turned round at last to face them. He was dishevelled, unshaven, and bruised about the face and neck.

Concerned, Blair stepped closer, "What's going on, Jim?"

"I'm fine," replied Jim distantly, not moving.

"What did he do to you?" barked Simon.

"Mind games," said Jim, finally moving towards them and the open roof door, but staggering, even bumping into Blair slightly.

As Blair grabbed his arm, Jim turned to him and asked dully "Is it _ever really_ over?" before suddenly dropping to his knees, Blair going with him and supporting him on the way down. Simon hurried over and propped him up on the other side.

"Jim, are you hurt anywhere?" Simon asked looking for a wound.

Blair reached out and grabbed Jim's face so he could look closely at him. Blair immediately noticed that Jim's eyes were unfocused.

"Drugged me," said Jim before Blair could speak.

"Jeez," exclaimed Simon.

"What with? Do you know?" asked Blair worriedly.

Jim shook his head. "Nail. Helped focus and fight it off some," Jim explained quietly.

Blair and Simon looked at each other before looking for damage. Sure enough one clenched hand bore a ragged wound across the thumb, which still oozed blood through Jim's fingers.

"Oh man, come on, Jim. Stay with us just a little longer, please," entreated Blair.

"'m tryin'" said Jim tiredly. "Lemme up," he ordered finally. He took a deep breath and the other two helped him up. Simon and Blair could feel the faint tremors running through Jim's body as he fought to stay upright and conscious. Slowly they made their way to the elevator and went down, willing it to go faster.

In the silence, Blair noticed a nail on the floor of the elevator. "Is that…?" he asked Jim, seeing him stare at it as well.

Jim nodded and unconsciously clenching his fist again, blood dripped to the floor.

"Don't!" said Blair.

"Had to," murmured Jim. They both remembered their early morning conversation concerning anaesthetics and pain relief, and wondered what was going to happen next.

At last they reached the ground floor, but when Simon and Blair tried to steer Jim to the waiting ambulance, he insisted on looking at the body lying in the alleyway first. In Jim's minds eye he could see his bullet hit Colonel Oliver high in the shoulder toppling him off the rooftop, his body bouncing off his accomplices' car below. He stared at it hard for a minute, cataloguing everything before moving away.

Blair darted off suddenly while he was doing this, and returned as Jim turned around. "Simon!" he called, gesturing as he saw Jim lurch and falter.

Simon's long legged stride made it to Jim before Blair could. "Hey, Jim. Hang on, I've got you," he soothed as he guided his detective to the ambulance at last. Simon knew the Feds would want to talk to Jim, but they would just have to wait until he was fit to do so.

Simon hovered outside the ambulance as the uniforms reported to him. Eventually he cleared the scenes for Forensics. "I'll catch up with you guys later," Simon said as the doors closed.

As the ambulance drove to the hospital the paramedics checked Jim out. Blair warned them that Jim had been drugged, while sitting as close as he could to keep one hand on Jim's arm to keep him focused for as long as possible.

"What's this, sir?" asked on of the paramedics, pointing to a red point on Jim's neck.

"Dart, knocked me out at the garage," explained Jim, wondering for a second what day it now was.

"You mean you've been drugged twice recently?" replied Blair horrified.

Jim nodded.

The paramedics noted this down. "How about this bruising on the other side of your neck, sir?"

"Karate chop to the neck. Stopped me for a bit," said Jim his eyes closing and drifting off, not wanting to remember how Tanya had surprised him.

"Were you unconscious at all?"

"Not long."

"Okay."

"Could you let us examine this wound on your hand sir?"

"No! I'm okay," said Jim rallying slightly, but still clenching his fist, still tense.

"Jim, let go, man. They're only trying to help you," urged Blair.

But Jim was now lost in remembrance of the underground bunker and fighting off Oliver's goons. Blair put his hand back on Jim's arm to try and get him to wake up a bit more. Jim reacted instinctively, pinning his hand over Blair's and aiming his other hand for his throat.

"Jim, don't!" cried Blair.

"Hey, let go!" the paramedics shouted, wrestling with him to free Blair.

Blair grabbed Jim's wounded hand and squeezed hard, hoping the pain would get through to Jim, whilst frantically saying, "It's me, Jim! Blair. Just come back." It worked. Jim let go with a gasp, as he opened his eyes and found himself looking at a startled, concerned Guide.

"It's okay, Oliver's dead. We've got everybody. You can relax; you're safe now," continued Blair desperately trying to reassure and calm his Sentinel.

"Sure?" asked Jim tiredly, his eyed fluttering shut once more.

"Sure, I'm sure," confirmed Blair as the medics swiftly hooked Jim to an IV, and monitors.

"Do you know what caused this wound, sir?"

"This," said Blair holding up the rusty, sharp nail in a tissue. "Is he going to be okay?"

"En route to the hospital we'll monitor him for a possible concussion and any potential reaction to the drugs he's been given, like heart arrhythmia. Once there, I expect they'll do blood tests to identify the substances and take it from there. Plus making sure he doesn't have any infection from the rusty nail. He'll need a tetanus booster too. Other than that he's got some bruising and a mild concussion."

Digesting this gave Blair something to think about as the ambulance wove its way through the traffic. He sat next to Jim's gurney, his hand placed on the nearest forearm ready to respond the moment Jim woke up. It was a comforting link between them that often kept Jim calm and grounded in times of stress or injury. At this moment, Blair just wanted to hang on to something real.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Later in the hospital, after Jim had been taken for tests and scans, Blair sat and waited. There was nothing else he could do. Wait for the results. Wait for Jim to wake up again and tell them more. Wait for Simon to come by; they were questioning the accomplices in case one of them knew what Oliver had given Jim. Wait for the Feds to turn up and talk to Jim.

Blair was trying to keep calm, but he had been on a rollercoaster ride for the last day or so. He had been worried when Jim hadn't returned from meeting his Army friend. Then he'd almost been killed in the apartment and evaded the hit men using all his wits even though it meant spending the night in the jail with interesting company. All the time, he worried where Jim was and what was going on. Then things got worse when Blair and Jack Kelso had found an encrypted file and Jack had been shot. Blair worked himself into a frazzle wondering if Jim would still be alive.

Simon arrived at the hospital, tired but anxious to hear about Jim.

"How's it going kid? How's Jim doing?"

"Okay, sleeping off the drugs. They weren't intending to kill him just delay things a bit. Jim doesn't seem to have reacted badly to them, but the doc said they might give him some bad dreams. He already had a minor flashback in the ambulance."

"That doesn't sound too good, Sandburg."

"We all got a bit of a surprise. He's calmed down some now, but while they were doing the tests and stuff he kept trying to pull the bandages and IV off, so they've had to put light restraints on. I don't like it, but he needs to rest and heal." Blair sighed.

Before Simon could think about his best detective being 'lightly' restrained, a nurse appeared. "Mr Sandburg? Mr Ellison is ready in room 305, if you'd like to go on in. Just don't worry too much about the IV and the monitors. They're just a precaution."

Blair and Simon made their way to room 305. Jim lay on the bed; light bandages covered his wrists where Oliver's men had handcuffed him. The bruising on his neck and scrapes on his hands and arms were showing up more as time passed. Further up his arms were more light bandages but these were attached to the metal side frames of the bed.

The doctor said the drugs would wear off soon, but they seemed to be taking their time to do so. Blair was stuck waiting again. At least Jim didn't have a serious head injury, although they were keeping an eye on it. Usually concussions didn't go well with knockout drugs.

Simon sat by the bed. He'd managed to convince Blair to get some food and take a break and Joel had gone with him for company.

Jim still lay asleep quiet and still. Simon found it very unnerving as he was used to Jim's powerful presence both in the bullpen and off duty.

As Simon stared into space, he thought he heard a noise, and looked over at Jim. Had he moved?

Jim was beginning to move restlessly, gently tugging at the restraints. Simon leaned forward and pushed the call button to alert the medical staff.

Suddenly Jim jerked upright, clenching his fists, shouting, "Noo! Holland!"

Simon nearly fell off his chair in surprise. "Jim?" he asked carefully.

Jim lay back on the pillows, a light sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Untie me, dammit," he said, pulling at the restraints.

"It's okay, you're in the hospital. I'll get Sandburg," said Simon.

"Untie me! Now!" Jim shouted.

"What's all this fuss?" asked the doctor appearing in the room.

"Why am I tied up like this?" asked Jim angrily.

"You kept pulling at the IV and bandages when you were brought in several hours ago. It was just a precaution. You needed the fluids since you were dehydrated and had a slight infection when you were admitted."

"I'm fine now. Just let me go," said Jim stubbornly.

Interesting choice of words, thought Simon, watching the byplay, as a nurse checked the chart and passed it to the doctor.

"Right, you're almost done with the IV, another hour or two should do it. Try and get a bit more rest Mr Ellison, it's late."

"What time is it, Simon?"

"It's ah, 11.30 pm."

"Where's Blair? He's okay, isn't he? You were all on the rooftop weren't you?" asked Jim beginning to be worried at the absence of his friend.

"He's fine, he's with Joel in the canteen, getting some food," reassured Simon.

"We did get everybody, didn't we? Oliver's dead, and I left a guy in the lift."

"Colonel Oliver is very dead, and, yes, we found your guy in the lift and the two in the van."

"Huh, '_Tanya' _tried to trick me by pretending she was hostage too," said Jim annoyed with himself.

"Really? That's different," said Simon.

"Colonel Oliver's type of mind games. I should have realised!"

"Jim, you did the best you could. Oh, Jim, I have to tell you…"

"About Sam Holland? Guess he's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Jim. I know he was a friend."

"Yeah, well. People die. At least I got Oliver, which makes it even. I think I am tired after all," said Jim shortly and, closing his eyes, turned his face away from Simon.

Simon left Jim to his thoughts, and met Blair and Joel in the corridor on their way back to the room.

"Simon, is everything okay? Feel like I've been away too long," explained Blair.

"Jim's awake."

"Great, is he okay? I should have some back sooner. I should have been here; I shouldn't have left him…"

"Blair, slow down. You needed a break. I was here."

"Oh, sorry, Simon, it's just…"

"I understand, but I need to tell you some things before you go in and see him."

"What? You're scaring me here, Simon!"

Simon recounted Jim's abrupt waking, reaction to the restraints, and his dismissal of Sam Holland's death.

"Thanks for filling me in so I can get a handle on how to approach him. It's no surprise he's in a bad mood," said Blair, before going up the corridor to Jim's room.

When Blair went in Jim looked to be asleep again.

"I'm not in a bad mood!" came a quiet voice from the bed.

"Hey, you're supposed to be resting. Anyway it was a private conversation."

"About me!"

"Only in your best interests Jim! We're trying to help. Just relax, take a deep breath…"

"Sandburg!" growled Jim, and opened his eyes to glare balefully at Blair.

Blair came closer to really look at Jim again now he was awake. He looked feverish and in pain. Concerned, Blair laid one hand on Jim's forehead and the other lightly on one forearm.

"What?" asked Jim with a yawn.

"Nothing, just checking. That's why the IV's are still going. Just a bit longer, big guy." said Blair removing his hand from Jim's forehead.

"Okay," replied Jim feeling much calmer now Blair was here.

"How are the dials? Any trouble?" asked Blair.

"Not bad, a few small spikes…"

"Take a few deep breaths, and picture the dials. Move them to their normal positions and you should feel better," instructed Blair. Blair waited while Jim relaxed and reorganised his dials in the quiet stillness of the room.

"That's it, just relax," soothed Blair.

"Can hear you breathin'," mumbled Jim.

"I'm supposed to be breathing! Now rest. And, Jim, I am sorry about your friend. We can talk about it later."

Jim gave a small grunt in reply, moments later he was fast asleep again, on the road to recovery.

Blair stayed in the room. An hour or so later the nurses removed the IV's and restraints, but Jim slept through it, much to Blair's surprise and concern. When he questioned the doctor, Blair was reassured that Jim was just catching up on lost sleep, and his body needed time to repair itself from the traumas of the past 24 hours.

Blair spent the night on a cot bed in Jim's room, just in case he was needed. They both slept through the rest of the night.

The following morning, the other federal agencies took turns getting Jim's statements, having waited impatiently under medical advice since the previous day. Simon and Blair had already given their side of the story repeatedly.

When Jim was discharged at lunchtime, he insisted on going to see Jack Kelso before going home, since he was in the same hospital. He was concerned that Kelso and Blair had been shot at and in such danger because of him. It looked like Kelso would make a good recovery considering his disability.

"Come on, Jim, let's go home now. You've checked and your tribe is okay for now. But I could really do with some lunch, and I guess you could too after all that talking this morning." prodded Blair as Jim paused outside Kelso's room.

"You win, Darwin." Jim said with a tight smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**"Pins and needles**

Part 2

Two days later…

Blair drove to Prospect Place, screeching to a halt next to Jim's truck. He was in a really bad mood. This was the perfect ending to a rotten day. He'd had this weird feeling all evening that he should be with Jim. When he let himself into the Loft, Jim wasn't sitting watching TV nor was he in the kitchen. Nor was he asleep in his room. The bathroom was its usual pristine model of cleanliness.

"Jim? Are you in here, man? Simon's mad at you, and we need to talk," said Blair loudly giving Jim a chance to speak up. But there was no reply.

Blair walked through the apartment and saw the balcony door was slightly ajar. He went through the door.

Jim sat upright, wedged in the corner of the balcony terrace his long legs stretched out, ankles crossed. Beside him was a row of unopened beer bottles. He sat head leaned back to the wall, eyes closed, hands slack at his side.

"Jim? What's going on?" Blair asked getting really worried as Jim didn't answer him. When there was no answer Blair edged closer, "Jim?"

Jim couldn't be drunk - the bottles were unopened. He never slept that deeply at this time of the day. Was he…?

Blair stretched out his hand as he knelt by him to check for a pulse. 'Thank God,' there it was, steady but slow. Jim's skin felt cool to the touch. Not surprising in the early evening cool if he had been here for a while.

"Jim, wake up you're scaring me here."

Jim looked oddly peaceful sitting there. Blair returned to the kitchen and made himself a cup of herbal tea for warmth and comfort and to see if the smell would bring Jim back.

Blair sat down next to Jim and putting one hand on Jim's arm, he began to talk.

"I know you hate these teas, but I've had a bad day, and I need it. Shall I tell you about it? I'm trying to help you, but you won't let me. You won't tell me how you are. I don't know why I'm not surprised, but all that fallout from Colonel Oliver, you just brushed it aside like it was nothing. It had to mean something to you, man. I think you've been having trouble with you senses the last day or two. Spikes, I guess, like after Danny Choi. I said we could go on that fishing trip and have some peace and quiet, but no, you're like a bear with a sore head stomping about the place. Yelling at me saying you '_don't want to go fishing dammit_', and to _'shut the hell up and just leave you alone_' is not a good attitude. I live here, too. I can't be quiet all the time. I know it's been hard to be face to face with Colonel Oliver again and losing your army pal."

Blair paused and drank some of the tea. The fingers under his hand twitched, but Jim wasn't back yet.

"So, much as I'd like to have kept an eye on you tonight during your stakeout, sting operation whatever it was, but you flatly refused to let me come along. I got mad at you and managed to pull some extra tutoring instead. And what happens? Shit happens that's what. Three irate messages on my phone from Simon about you. You almost killed your suspect tonight. Simon isn't happy; he says it took two of them to stop you. I'm worried. What's going on in there, Jim? Is it something to do with Sam Holland or Colonel Oliver?"

Jim's ankle jerked and he mumbled something.

Blair sighed. It was getting cooler out here by the minute.

"See, we should have talked about this days ago. But you're too good at brushing me off and bottling it up and pretending it never happened. You need to deal with it. Heck, I know I needed to deal with it, escaping from those guys and being with Jack when he got shot. What's with the bottles, big guy? Planning on having a solo party? Why are you hiding in the corner, Jim? You didn't do anything wrong."

Blair looked at Jim again, had he said something again? Blair wafted his cooling tea under Jim's nose

"Are you back yet, Jim? Because this is one heck of a one- sided conversation. Even Larry answered me back…"

The hand under Blair's clenched then unclenched before pulling out from Blair's and blindly reached for Blair's chest, his guiding heartbeat.

Jim's eyes opened at last and he turned to Blair. "Blair?" he said slowly.

"Jim? Are you okay?"

"Yes and No."

Blair was startled to see that Jim looked upset. "Want to tell me about it?"

There was a long silence.

Jim cleared his throat. "I'm not sorry Colonel Oliver's dead. But I would have liked to ask him more questions, turn him over to the authorities. There wasn't time; I couldn't stop him going over the edge of the roof."

"Jim, he was going to kill Chavez, pin it on you, and then kill you. He ordered the killing of your friend. "

"It's all my fault! If it weren't for me you wouldn't be dodging killers and bullets. I couldn't stop them killing Sam. I couldn't warn him in time. He was the last one. There's only me left, and I wonder if it was all worth it."

"Look, Jim. Sam Holland came to you because you were his Captain, right?"

Jim nodded.

"He trusted you. He thought you could help him. Of course you were going to see and talk to him."

"I should have realised sooner that maybe he'd been followed. I thought we'd have more time. I didn't expect to get taken like that."

"You can't predict everything, Jim. I'm sorry about Sam Holland."

"I almost escaped, but that was a trick too." Jim stopped and shook his head, before continuing, "Remember we joked about medications and testing and stuff. I didn't know what was going to happen, if I'd wake up again. The nail was the only thing I could think of."

"It worked, Jim, it worked really well. I know you like being in control all the time, and this has shaken you up."

"That's an understatement, Chief."

There was a pause while they both thought what to say next. Jim knew that Blair wasn't going to stop prodding until he had the whole sorry tale. Jim wasn't proud of what had happened. He should have controlled himself better, he should have, and he was no better than a thug. He closed his eyes again and sighed, letting his breath out.

Blair watched Jim try and pull himself together. He seemed so weary. But Jim never gave in, did he? What had triggered tonight's debacle? Blair wondered, as he thought how to help Jim without touching a raw nerve and making him clam up or storm off like before.

"So…" Blair started to ask.

"What?" said Jim stubbornly.

"So, what happened tonight, Jim?"

There was a long pause, and Blair thought Jim wasn't going to answer him, until finally he spoke,

"We had a tip off about Soames; you remember the money laundering scam, Chief? The one we've been trying to get for over a year now, but we couldn't get any evidence?"

"Yes."

"Well, the tip off said we could catch him getting his ledgers and money. No-one's seen him for months and up he pops out of the woodwork."

"And?"

"We waited, we saw, we apprehended the guy, got the evidence," finished Jim curtly.

"Then why is Simon so mad?" asked Blair confused.

"Because I lost it in the debriefing… sorry, interview room afterwards, that's why."

"What did you do? Overplay the good cop bad cop routine? But you can tell when they're lying, monitor heart rate and body language, can't you?"

"No, it was more like I was trying to merge him into the brickwork and paint. One move of my hands on his neck, and I would have killed him in a heartbeat without even thinking about it."

"Why, Jim? What did he do to get you so mad? I don't understand."

"He was sitting there all smug and self righteous and he said 'He'd been in business a long time and that we couldn't prove it and that we couldn't catch him.'"

_**Jim: Chavez was going to nail you, wasn't he? **_

_**Oliver: Oh, he tried but he's way out of his league. I've been doing this too long to get caught, Jim. **_

"So what? A lot of them say something like that."

"Yeah, well today it just totally pissed me off. Sitting there in his black coat, like we were bugs on a windshield. But what really made me lose it was what he said next. "How long were we going to harass him, what did he have to do to get rid of us, to make us back off?"

_**Oliver: What's it going to take, Ellison? What's it going to take to put you down? **_

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Jim ran out of things to say. Blair was still confused. What was the problem here? Simon said that Jim in one fluid motion had pounced on the man, dragged him off the chair, and thrown him against the wall with one arm behind his back almost dislocating it. It happened so fast that if it weren't for the man slowly turning purple, Simon would not have believed it.

"I just made everything worse! He'll file charges for 'excessive force against a suspect', I'll lose my badge and that'll be that," said Jim flatly. "I screwed up and lost the department one of the scumbags we've been after for too long,"

"No! There has to be more to it than this. You were fine until the interview. Did his words mean something to you, Jim?"

"You could say that. On any other day, it would be nothing, but they were very similar to conversations between Colonel Oliver and me. The bastard set us up just to protect his supply line! Eight men dead now!" seethed Jim, picking at the label on one of the beer bottles.

_**Oliver : What good's a war without a profit?**_

"My God, Jim, what were the odds on him saying stuff like that?"

"Pressed my buttons good and proper, stupid jerk even reminded me of Oliver too, sitting there in his black long coat. Smug son of a bitch. I just reacted. God, I wanted to kill him so bad. It felt good; to hit out, it wasn't like shooting Oliver. The two things became one and I didn't realise I was roughing up the wrong guy, that I'd already killed Colonel Oliver."

"Jim, look we can explain all this to Simon and the IA. If you'd be prepared to talk to the PD counsellor first…"

"Shit, I thought you'd say that," Jim gripped the beer bottle so hard that Blair thought it would break.

"Calm down, Jim. You know the suits like stuff on pieces of paper that they can file away. This will help you keep your badge, I promise."

"Yeah, thanks, Sandburg! And they can drag that piece of paper out the next time I fuck up, too."

"Jim! Stop being so paranoid! You can't be the only cop that's had a flashback after a trauma. It doesn't excuse it, but it does give it a reason. Come on work with me here, you want to keep your job, to be a cop don't you?" entreated Blair.

"Of course, I do!" Jim snapped.

"Then start acting like it! Get you own evidence and paperwork," replied Blair, hoping his snippy attitude would get through to Jim.

"You're absolutely right, Chief. I'm looking backwards at the past when I should be securing my future. I'll get right on it, just as soon as I can get up off this floor," said Jim tiredly.

"Yes, why are you sitting there, what's with the bottles and if you weren't zoned, what were you doing when I came back?"

"Whoa, Chief. One question at a time please!" said Jim as he tried to get up.

Blair stood and helped pull Jim up. He followed Jim's lurching progress inside.

"Ow! Ow! Pins and needles!" Jim groused as he made it to an armchair, closing his eyes as the blood rushed back into his extremities.

"Simon didn't suspend you, did he? He didn't tell me much, just to come back and look after you," asked Blair.

"No, told me to cool off, and hope Soames doesn't press charges. Although, how we can prove Oliver said those things to me? It was just between him and me, no witnesses."

"But you've given your statement to the Feds, haven't you? Did you put everything in it?"

"Of course, I did!" bristled Jim.

"And Soames's lawyers can get statements from the other suspects about Colonel Oliver's intentions and motivations, can't they?" continued Blair, thinking out loud.

"You're right, Blair. Why didn't I think of this? But it's still my word against theirs."

"Thanks, but you're not firing on all cylinders at the moment, so cut yourself some slack."

"Huh," grunted Jim, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the chair.

Looking at him, Blair knew that that was part of the problem. Jim never forgave himself if things went wrong. He expected to win all the time. There was no margin for error.

"The beer bottles were for the guys in the unit, and Sam who was supposed to go. I just hadn't decided whether to drink all of them at once or what," said Jim suddenly in the quiet of the Loft.

"Oh, I get it, toasting the dead?"

"Something like that, yeah," answered Jim quietly.

"You weren't really going to drink all that beer were you? I've never seen you have more than one or two since your senses came on line…" said Blair slightly worried.

"Well, you didn't know me before Peru. Sometimes we had to blot out what we did. I had my moments from the inside of a bottle, okay? A lot of it's just the social alpha tough guy bonding stuff right, Blair?"

"If you weren't drunk, weren't asleep, weren't zoned when I came in. What were you doing?" asked Blair, wanting the answer to one last question.

"If you must know I was trying to see if I could talk to Incacha."

"What?"

"When I was with Colonel Oliver on the roof I told him, _**'I always wondered why I survived the jungle. But now I know'.**_ And then I shot him."

"And?"

"After the flashback and everything I was so mad at myself. I kept thinking about Sam Holland and the Unit. And the crash and the jungle. And then I got to thinking about the Chopec and Incacha. About the way of the warrior and I don't know… seeing if I could get onto the spirit road and tell the guys what happened. Crazy idea, I know." blurted Jim.

"I'm really surprised, Jim. It's the kind of thing I'd do! But not...you… I mean..." Blair trailed off.

"I was just trying to relax sitting here, thinking. I really wanted to do it. Did I ever tell you the jungle is blue in my sprit world? And the panther is so black. He's beautiful."

"Wow, Jim that's amazing."

"I walked through the jungle looking for Incacha, anybody. It didn't work at first, I could hear voices and laughing somewhere and it got me mad, and I started running."

"What happened next?" asked Blair.

"The panther appeared out of nowhere and tripped me up. When I got up and tried to follow him, he was the other side of a clearing. When I tried to cross the clearing, it was quicksand and I floundered getting deeper and deeper. I looked up and Incacha sat there watching and waiting. '_Stop fighting and relax_,' he said. Of course he was right, as soon as I stopped struggling, I could work my way out of the mire. He offered me his hand, to help me out and I waved it off. But he grabbed it anyway and pulled me out like it was nothing. '_Never refuse help, especially when you think you don't need it. You do_'. Except of course he was speaking in Chopec and I understood him," explained Jim.

"Hey, I know what he means. It's not easy working with you sometimes, man," agreed Blair.

"He told me to sit in the clearing that he'd just pulled me out of. I thought this is nuts, I'm all wet and slimy and he wants me to sit back in it. But I know this man, he speaks the truth too often for me to ignore. He guided me without me understanding what he was doing, only that things worked well and I was helping the tribe. I felt complete. Not lost, not broken like when he'd found us and the chopper."

"What happened when you sat in the clearing, Jim?" prompted Blair.

"It changed into a beautiful grass meadow, with wild flowers, daisies and buttercups. Peaceful.

'_What troubles you?_' Incacha asked me.

'Oliver and his supply line, whole Peru thing, losing the guys,' because at that moment it was the truth and I can't not tell him. He knows. He can see.'

'_What is done is done. The past is the past, we can learn from it and then we can only go forward. Do not let it destroy you. You cannot live your life trapped in blood and death, in this place. You are here many times. It is not good for the spirit_.' he said

'But…'

'_Part of you died with them, but you were reborn with us. You came into your true self. Was that wrong? No. It was what should be. Patterns of life with an unexpected thread_.'

And then he told me to relax and look for a moment of perfect stillness to get rid of the hatred and anger I'd been carrying around. I didn't know what he meant but I sat there anyway. Gradually, things did get calmer. I imagined being at a table with the men in my unit and Sam Holland, having a few beers, game of cards. We were just chewing the fat, but I _know _I was telling them what happened, that I was sorry Oliver was dead and that we couldn't get more information from him. They told me, hey at least I got him that Chavez was saved and that Tanya and the others were bound to spill the beans in return for a deal with the Feds and DA."

"You think that's what'll happen?" said Blair.

"Probably," replied Jim.

"Then what?" prodded Blair.

"It was so good seeing everyone again, like old times, playing cards in some camp and I didn't want to leave. Incacha put his hand over my heart, and kept saying I had to go, it was time to face the real world now. It was safe to go home because my Guide was with me and I had a long journey to make. Everyone waved goodbye and they all vanished. All I could do was follow this voice. Yours…and smell of that damned tea."

"That's quite a story, Jim. Do you feel better?"

"Actually, I think I do, now that I've told you."

"Good."

"Yeah, I'll think things through and go in tomorrow and sort the paperwork out. Talk to Simon and people. It could be the only time we ever get anything from Colonel Oliver's rogue team. I still have sources that can tell me stuff if the Feds clam up. We ought to visit Kelso, see how he's doing, don't you think?" said Jim getting up from the chair.

"It's a bit late to visit now, though."

"I know, Darwin. How about dinner? Stir fry? I'll do the chicken and veg if you do the sauce?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"What noodles do you want?"

"What we got, Jim?"

"I don't know, it was your turn to shop this week."

"No, it wasn't!" retorted Blair.

"Was."

"Wasn't. We were going camping remember!"

"Oh…Yeah," realised Jim. As he stood in the kitchen opening a cupboard, he could smell something. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out dried grass and a flattened daisy. He still needed time to think about what this meant. He could tell Blair about this later. Right now there were hungry stomachs to feed. Blair could turn ugly if you didn't feed him.

THE END


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